


In The Beginning

by Simbeline



Series: The Gotham Apocalypse [2]
Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan)
Genre: Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse AU, Gen, Other Characters - Freeform, Post-Movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-18 02:11:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11281596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Simbeline/pseuds/Simbeline
Summary: After the bomb, after the occupation, John and Barsad try to pick up the pieces of Talia and Bane. And the others? Well, they're growing in their own ways too.Four Horsemen in Gotham sequel.





	In The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> 3 years later - well, better late then never I guess. I've had maybe half of this written for ages but I didn't get around to finishing it until now.
> 
> Unbeta'd, there are probably mistakes all over the place, but here it is.

**War**

John walks in. His men stand up to fight, even though they’re exhausted, but he waves them off quickly. He knows they’re confused, but he’ll make up some kind of explanation later. 

“You should take her to the hospital,” John says. “They’ve brought in emergency doctors and they’re patching people up as best they can. I can take her if you think you’re too well known.”

“What if someone who knows recognizes her?” He asks, “Gordon knew, what if he sees?”

“They’re mostly treating the police in a temporary setup in city hall. I’ll go around and take her to one farther away, where there’s more civilians. I’ll say she’s a friend of mine who I went to check on after I took the orphans back to St. Swithin’s. I talked to Gordon - he knows she was behind the bomb plot but he doesn’t know her name isn’t Miranda Tate.” John pauses, thinking, “I’ll give them a made up name, and I’ll keep an eye on her and the people who know,” he gives Barsad a look that means _as Death, obviously,_ “Gordon won’t find out, I promise.”

Barsad sighs in relief, he wasn’t sure how he was going to care for both of them. He has all of two able men, and none of them can be seen on the streets right now, not dressed as mercenaries.

Then he looks up, “What happened to Bruce Wayne?”

John shrugs, “He wasn’t driving when the bomb went out over the bay, and he didn’t die. But he seems to want people to think he’s dead, so I’ll let him have that.” John grins, “For a little while anyway. I think Famine’s with him, actually.”

Barsad manages a returning grin, then he swallows, “I need a few things.”

“Like what?”

“Clothes, for one. We’ll get torn apart in the streets dressed as mercenaries, even if they don’t recognize our faces specifically. More supplies to care for Bane. After that, we need a safer location.”

John looks thoughtful, “Alright, well I’ll take Talia to the hospital first, then I’ll bring back some clothes. As for the location... I might have a place, but I’ll have to check it out first. Transportation might be a problem.”

Barsad nods. “Thank you, John.”

John shakes his head and turns away, “Hey, anything for family, right?”

 

**Pestilence**

He’s in jail.

Again.

Although, they’re probably going to kill him this time. War crime tribunal, and all. He didn’t really bother hiding, although getting taken in by a bunch of military soldiers was rather disappointing. 

He wished it had been the interesting Commissioner.

He amuses himself by causing minor illness in many of the healthy remaining citizens of Gotham, and makes a stronger strain of malaria while he’s at it - different locales, but a similar purpose.

Despite all of that, he’s terribly bored. 

Now that the occupation is over, people are being all _happy_ and _hopeful_ and (most importantly) _not fearful_. Sure, there’s mild fears - that it’s not actually over, or that something else will happen - but most people seem to push them aside relatively easily in the haze of we-didn’t-get-blown-up euphoria. Even his casual attempts to incite fear of Gotham’s population in the incoming volunteers, soldiers and workers isn’t very successful. 

Very bothersome.

So he’s sitting in his cell, casting his awareness around him and adding a more personal touch to certain illnesses when he feels the Commissioner’s particular brand of _strong, but aging, currently with a minor cold_ coming closer. 

He perks up, sitting more attentively and letting his mouth curve into his usual blank smile... only to discover Gordon’s come to see a different prisoner - one of Bane’s inner-circle men.

Ah yes, the authorities must be all a flutter because they haven’t found Bane’s body. 

As Gordon passes by his cell on his way out, Crane calls, “Commissioner, how good to see you.”

Gordon glances at him quickly, narrows his eyes, but doesn’t even pause.

Crane pouts, then frowns.

Just for that, he’s giving the whole remaining police force the flu.

 

**Death**

John can’t really carry Talia out of there all by himself - well, he can but it would look really strange and he’s trying to avoid notice. So he goes back out and scrounges up a set of clothes and basic medical supplies for Barsad. He asks one of Barsad’s men to change and together they carry Talia in a makeshift stretcher. 

He avoids the main roads and goes to one of the emergency treatment areas inside a school gymnasium. Koji, the League of Shadows man with him, slips away back to Barsad. He gives an innocuous name - _Sarah Walker_ \- and puts himself down as her emergency contact. They rush her away, and he knows they’ll tell him it’s a miracle she’s still alive. 

It’s not really a miracle, though, is it? He can feel a vague _wrongness_ in his actions and looming consequences hanging over him. She was supposed to die, and he stopped it. The world won’t end or anything like that - saving one human soul couldn’t throw off the balance of life and death - but he knows he took a step in a direction he shouldn’t have.

So, he finds someone who almost died, but lived, and pushes their soul On instead. Balance. 

Some people feel like certain souls have more importance than others - someone who was famous in life must naturally have a more important soul. But it doesn’t work like that - every soul of every person, regardless of age, is ultimately the same. Although Talia is an important _person_ , any _soul_ could take her place.

Probably, he should feel bad about choosing some random person, but he can’t. Despite all the humanity he’s gained, people he knows as John are still more important to him than strangers.

He waits for news, and hours later feels her soul hook to her body again. She’s alive again under her own power, and he relaxes his hold on her. 

Barsad better be able to convince her to let go of her revenge.

 

**Famine**

Bat boy was interesting, but he brooded a lot. 

Like, a lot. 

She’d used the clean slate, so now she’s a free gal, and they’d taken a (private, naturally) plane to Europe. She’s enjoying doing the rich tourist thing, of course, but she can’t help but wonder what’s happening in Gotham. What happened to Jen? What happened to Bane and Miranda? She doesn’t have a sense for specific souls the way Death does, so she doesn’t know. 

They’re probably alive, though. She knows Gotham is on the hunt for Bane - dead or alive - and they haven’t found him yet. Sure, it’s possible Barsad just hid the body, but somehow she thinks he got them out alive.

She definitely doesn’t feel bad for shooting Bane in the first place.

She _doesn’t_.

 

**War**

Caring for Bane is difficult.

While he has assurance that Bane won’t die, he also wants him to heal properly. He cleans his wounds and sets his bones, repairs the mask and makes Bane as comfortable as possible. 

The road to recovery will be long, and they can’t stay here. 

John returns several hours after Koji. 

“She’s fine. Or, she will be fine. Recovery will be slow, but she _will_ recover,” he says.

“And Bane…?”

John sighs, “His life has been hard on his body. He’s alive, and I’ll keep him alive, but there’s no telling how well he’ll heal.”

Barsad can’t really imagine Bane being kept down too long by anything, but he knows he would follow him anyway. Until Bane dies, Barsad is his man. If that means becoming a caretaker, he’d do it, even if it isn’t in his nature. 

War isn’t very suited to the type of nurture long term care required. Triage during or directly after conflict? Of course. But other types of care usually happened away from the battlefield. But there are skills that can be used - his battle steadiness, his strategic patience, his clear-headed calm. 

He might have been a concept, not a person, but he’d been acting as a person for long enough to be able to bend himself into something he isn’t, for a time. He can do it for the rest of Bane’s life, if he has to.

John clears his throat, “I’ll bring you guys clothes tomorrow. I think you’ll be safe enough here for one night. They’re looking for you, but they’ve got a lot on their plate.”

Then he leaves. 

Barsad returns to Bane’s side and sits on the floor next to him. He listens to his laboured breathing and grips his wrist to feel his pulse. A bit fast, but steady. 

War lets his awareness of the world expand, brushing his power through conflicts across the globe to distract himself from how little he can do here and now. All the while, he keeps his human body focused on Bane’s breath and pulse.

The war in Gotham isn’t actually over, he realizes. Its leaders aren’t dead, and its armies are battered but prepared to fight again if they have to. Talia’s determination burns as brightly as it ever did, and War delights in feeling her alive, even as he despairs what he must do. He’d agreed to make her give up the fight in return for saving her, but realizes that this will be at some level a betrayal.

By saving them, he might lose them, and there’s nothing he can do.

 

**Famine**

She’s screaming at herself as she packs her bag while Bruce is out. Why the fuck is she doing this to herself? She could go anywhere, she could be anything. Okay, so she’s a gigantic wimp that’s apparently willing to _rot in jail_ rather than give up her life as Selena Kyle but that’s a level of crazy she’s gotten used to. 

Going back to the city where the Others are, possibly causing World War III, some sort of environmental catastrophe, or maybe even a dimensional implosion of some kind is just off the scale level insanity. 

So she’s probably being a bit dramatic. Gotham had been mostly fine with the four of them there - aside from the months long terrorist occupation and threat of nuclear explosion, that is. 

But the world keeps spinning, people keep wanting things. It’s even interesting, to talk to people about the former situation in Gotham and realize how removed from all of it they are. People might have found it shocking in an intellectual way, to hear about a modern city under lockdown, but there’s also an intense apathy. There’s nothing that could have been done, so it isn’t worth thinking about much.

She finishes packing her small bag and stands up, looking around the room. 

It’s a beautiful hotel, and she’s enjoyed her time here immensely but…

There are so many things left unfinished and unsaid back in Gotham. She wants to see Jen, apologize to War, talk to Death again, and maybe punch Pestilence in his stupid face.

Not that he’d feel it but it would make her feel better anyway.

She doesn’t have to go to Gotham to contact War or Death, of course, she can do that anytime. They are all everywhere, all the time. But she values her human shell, and she knows they value theirs too. There’s something more tangible, more truthful about speaking to them in person. War, at least, she owes that much.

She picks up her bag and walks out the door, down the hallway toward the elevators.

She feels Bruce as the elevator rises.

Shit. Well, she’d just make this short. No hard feelings, right?

The doors open and Bruce steps out. He stops and stares. 

The doors start to close and she reaches out to push the button so they stay open.

“You’re leaving,” he says finally.

“Going back to Gotham,” she says, tilting her chin up in challenge.

Bruce looks away. “Oh.”

“Yeah, so. See you around, I guess.” She steps around him into the elevator and turns to face him. She presses the button for the ground floor.

As the doors close, he gives her an awkward, close-mouthed smile and a half wave of his hand.

_Such a dork_ , she thinks with a small smile.

Somehow, she thinks she might see him around. She knows he’d never stopped wanting to go home.

 

**Death**

John has never quite felt like he understood the phrase ‘running around like a chicken with its head cut off’ until now. Sure, he was busy during the occupation, but there was also a slow steadiness about it. You go get food at this time. You go to the orphanage at this time, the police at this time. You sleep at this time.

Now, his world as a human is in upheaval. He’d quit with the force, kind of, but he’d also become somewhat infamous as one of the main fighters. Most of the people pouring in from the outside don’t know him, thankfully, but Gothamites do. People stop to thank him or wish him well as he walks through the streets. He tries to act natural, and not seem like he’s helping a half-dead war criminal and his men. 

Back with War, he crouches over Bane to check on him. War is probably better at this than he is, but he checks anyway. Bane’s looking better, slightly. Okay, he still looks like shit. But his soul feels firmly anchored, and his breathing is easier than before. As much as he can tell filtered through the mask anyway. At least they didn’t have to worry about painkillers. 

John stands up. “You can hole up in my apartment for a while. It’s small, but it’ll do. We’ll have to wait for dark to move him, but it’s not far.”

“Thank you,” Barsad says quietly.

“I’m going to see Talia now. When she’s well enough to be moved, she can join you.”

John clasps Barsad on the shoulder and gives him a grimacing smile. It isn’t all right yet, but it would be. Probably.

As he’s walking toward the hospital where he brought Talia, a police officer he doesn’t know comes up to him. Must be from out of town.

“You Detective Blake?” he asks.

John snorts, “Not a detective anymore, but yeah, I’m Blake.”

The man grunts in vague acknowledgement and says, “Commissioner wants to see you.”

John _really_ doesn’t want to talk to Gordon right now, so he says, “I’ll come see him when I have time. Where’s he holed up now?”

The officer pauses uncomfortably, probably debating whether he should push or not. He decides not to. “At City Hall. We’re all coordinating from there. Come by and see him soon, okay kid?”

People just can’t decide how to treat him can they? Either he’s a competent detective, or he’s a hotheaded brat. The joys of a boyish face.

“Sure,” John says, and keeps walking.

\----

At the hospital, the frazzled nurse at the front is the same as the one from yesterday, and she seems to remember him. Talia is bad off enough to be in a room, rather than set up in a hallway. 

He manages to talk to the exhausted doctor working on that floor as she makes her rounds. She says ‘Sarah’ is recovering well, but she hasn’t woken up yet. She doesn’t seem to have suffered any permanent spinal damage, but it’s hard to say for sure until she wakes up.

He pulls up a fold out chair and sits next to her. He looks at her sleeping face, trying to see what Barsad sees. He’d liked her as Miranda Tate, but who knows if that was even what she’s really like? He’d enjoyed the opportunity to get to know someone in an entirely human sense, but he also feels like he didn’t really know her at all until he touched her soul.

John ends up staying with her the whole day and night. The hospital is too busy to worry about things like visiting hours, and the doctor gives him brief instructions on how to tell if something is going wrong. After that, she doesn’t even check on them the rest of the night.

Just after dawn, Talia’s eyes flutter.

John takes her hand carefully. “Don’t try to move too much Sarah, you’ve broken your neck and it’s still healing,” he says quietly. 

“John?” she rasps weakly. 

It’s strange to hear her so confused and uncertain. During the occupation, she’d been in control the whole time, even if no one knew. Now…

“It’s all right, Sarah. Your brothers are fine, they just can’t come see you right now.”

“What…? What?” she mouths around the sentence she’s trying to say, but can’t get it out. 

“Don’t worry about anything right now, Sarah. Just concentrate on getting better. Everything will be okay, you’ll see.” He leans into her line of sight and gives her what he hopes is a reassuring smile.

She frowns but relaxes back into sleep.

John runs into the doctor as he walks out, and tells her she woke up briefly.

“That’s good,” she says. “The surgery went well and we’ve stabilized her as much as we can. She’ll have to wear a neck brace for the next couple of months, but once she can stay awake and stand up we’ll be able to release her.”

John nodded and smiled at her, trying to look like a relieved friend rather than an almost stranger.

 

**Pestilence**

Famine slips incorporeally into his cell. He turns his head to grin at her, not caring that he’ll look insane on the security cameras.

“What’s with you?” she says.

“What with what? With who? Me? I’m quite sure there’s a lot more wrong with you than with me. Which one of us is pretending to be a little girl?” He giggles.

She glares at him, “Grown ass woman and little girl are two very different things, you dumbass. And I mean, what’s with you and your face. You’re all _Doctor Crane_ even when I’m looking at Pestilence.”

He stops laughing abruptly and stares at her in horror.

“No! No, no, no, no, no! I will not be weak like the rest of you! I don’t want to be human! I’m not human, you’re not human!” His mind, _his pathetic, human mind,_ he realizes, shrinks away from the realization that his time as Jonathan Crane has changed him somehow. He’s an immortal being, a concept more than a being, even. He shouldn’t even be able to change! How has he changed? What happened? What mistake did he make?

Famine laughs at him, “Calm down, idiot. It’s not the end of the world. Who knows, maybe you changed because all of us did. It might not have anything to do with you.”

“No! Something’s changed about me, I can feel it! What is it? What did I do? How do I change it back?” He realizes he is afraid. This is awful. He’s never been afraid before. 

Famine hasn’t stopped laughing at him. “Oh, this is great, you’re really freaking out! This is even better than punching you in the face!” She fades out, cackling as she goes.

Pestilence - wearing Jonathan Crane’s face, _possibly forever, no!_ \- curls up on himself and tries not to cry.

 

**War**

Death contacts him to say he won’t be coming back that night, he’s going to stay with Talia while she sleeps. Barsad already knows where his apartment is, and he has two men, so it’s not like he needs the extra help.

When they reach the apartment, they transfer Bane to the small bed. 

After that, he decides they all need to have a talk. 

“Brothers, there is nothing more to be done in Gotham. We have failed, and we do not know how much of our army remains,” he begins. “I will stay to care for Bane and Talia. Perhaps both of you could return and see if anyone else survived.” Logical. Calm. Authoritative. He is not their leader, but they will listen to him. 

“Are you sure, brother?” Koji asks quietly. “There is only that boy to help you, and he is not one of us.”

Barsad can’t help but smile at someone referring to Death as a ‘boy.’ “He is not one of us, but he will take care of Bane and Talia. That much I can guarantee. When all of us have recovered, we will contact you again.”

They look at each other for a moment, before nodding.

It’s decided that they will stay here one more night, and set out in the morning. Their faces are not well-known, so they should have no problems leaving Gotham. Barsad gives them a set of ID. Talia may be their leader - strategic, single-minded and driven - but Bane has always liked to prepare for every possibility - even failure.

They settle down to sleep.

 

**Death**

He goes to see Gordon. City Hall is a mess, but a makeshift office has been made in one of the side rooms. Gordon stands to greet him as he enters.

“Detective, thank you for making the time to see me,” Gordon starts.

“I’m not a detective anymore,” John says testily. If they’re starting this conversation assuming that he’s going to change his mind and come back on the force, then it’s going to go nowhere.

Gordon pauses, but seems to give up, “Mr. Blake, then.” He sits, and motions for John to sit across from him.

John eases himself to sit on the edge of the broken chair.

They wait in silence. John glares at the desk. Gordon looks at him in contemplation.

“A very interesting piece of information crossed my desk yesterday.” Gordon says mildly.

“Yeah? What’s that?” John asks. 

“Someone found Bruce Wayne’s will. He’s been missing assumed dead since before the occupation, you know.”

“That’s great, what, did he donate it all to the police force or something?”

“No. He donated some of his fortune to charity, of course. Some to people who worked for him. But the largest share is set to go to a Mr. Robin John Blake.”

John is floored. _What? Why would…? We barely knew each other!_ “I… What?”

“Did you ever meet Bruce Wayne?”

“Twice, just a couple days before the occupation started.”

Gordon judged him for a long moment. “Well, you must have made quite an impression.”

John fidgeted. “Yeah, I guess so. Um, sorry sir, uh, Commissioner Gordon, but if there’s nothing else I have other stuff I have to do today so…”

“Oh, of course, everyone’s very busy these days. Sorry to have kept you, Mr. Blake.”

He leaves.

\----

When he arrives back at the hospital, Talia is awake and watching him with caution.

“Sarah!” he exclaims, giving her an innocent grin. He’s going to enjoy screwing with her just a little bit, until War explains everything. 

“…John,” she says. 

Just then the doctor passes by and notices them. “Oh, good, you’re here. She’s well enough to be discharged, although she needs to be careful about keeping her neck in the brace. We’ll be able to give you some painkillers - don’t think there’s any pharmacies up and running yet. Come back next week for a check up.” She pauses to look through the thick stack of papers on her clipboard, pulling out one of them and signing it. “Take this down to the front desk, they’ll give you a wheelchair and see if there are any taxis available.” She looks up and smiles tiredly. “Sorry to rush you but we really need this bed.” She thrusts the paper at him and then rushes away, not even waiting for an answer.

John turns to look at Talia and says, “Well, I guess we’re going home today then.”

\----

‘Getting home’ takes a while. Talia is mostly silent throughout, clearly trying to figure out what he knows, why he’s still helping her if he knows and what she should do next. He’s just glad she didn’t try to jump out of the moving taxi or something.

He helps her slowly walk up the stairs to his apartment. The elevator is, of course, not working after sitting for so many months. He would just carry her, but he’s concerned about putting strain on her neck. 

When they arrive at his apartment, Barsad is there to greet them. 

“I didn’t expect them to let her go so soon,” he says.

“Yeah, well there’s a lot of people in the hospitals, and apparently she’s pretty stable,” John says. “It’s safer for her here anyway.”

Talia is looking even more tense, glancing back and forth between John and Barsad with barely hidden confusion.

After a long pause, John says, “Anyway, I should go check on the kids. See you later.”

As he walks out, he hears Talia quietly explode into rapid-fire questions. 

_Enjoy that, War._

 

**War**

“…It’s difficult to explain,” he repeats weakly. He had, frankly, never expected to have to explain this to, well, _anyone_. 

Things were so much easier when he just stopped by for battles and left quickly after.

He decides for simple. When Bane is better, maybe he can explain it better to both of them. Show them some proof of what he is.

“John and I have known each other a long time. He knew I was in Gotham, but he didn’t know why and he didn’t ask. When you and Bane were…. dying, I asked him to help you, and he did.” 

Talia crosses her arms and pins him with a glare. “How?” she asks.

“John is… I am…” Barsad falters. “We are a both a little more than you thought we were, perhaps, but that doesn’t mean I lied to you. It doesn’t mean John lied to you. Or, no more than you lied to him anyway.” With that, he turns back to Bane, trying to escape the conversation.

Talia gazes at his back for a long time, but eventually leaves him alone without asking anything else.

He’d caught a glimpse of her expression before he turned and he feels slightly sick. A completely new sensation, actually.

She’d looked at him like he was a stranger.

 

**Famine**

Getting back to Gotham in the human sense actually takes a bit of work, even with her shiny new clean record. Not many people want to go back to a warzone apparently. She tells people a sob story about looking for her sister, who she’s been separated from all these long months. Government official types tend to tell her to wait, but auxiliary staff are sympathetic, and she manages to get a ride on a truck delivering medical supplies in exchange for helping unload.

When she’s finished, she waves at the driver and heads back to her… apartment? territory? Whatever. She invisibly taps John on the shoulder and he grins at her.

They meet, as usual, on the roof. 

“I knew you couldn’t stay away,” he says.

“Well I’m glad you knew,” she says snidely. “Could have mentioned it to me though.”

He laughs. “Like you’d have believed me anyway. You were so stubborn about us all being in the same place.” He sobers. “How’s Bruce?”

“Fine. Probably. He thinks he needs to get away, but honestly I’m sure he’ll be back. Something in him wants to be here.”

“Like something in you wants to be here?” His face is so… open, human. And genuinely pleased to see her.

“Yeah, I guess. Although I think we have different kinds of attachment issues. Oh!” She smiles viciously. “Have you seen Pestilence lately?”

John looks at her curiously, “No, haven’t really had the time. Why?”

“He’s looking so… human these days. I think we have your Inspector friend to thank. He pouts every time Gordon walks by without acknowledging him.”

“Huh,” John says. “Well, I suppose it had to happen sometime.”

They look out over the broken city skyline. Only a few buildings have lighting, and they look like glowing ships floating in a sea of black in the new moon dark. 

“Bane’s doing well, by the way,” John says.

Selina doesn’t say anything. She hadn’t wanted to ask, but of course John knew she wanted to know.

They watch over their together city until dawn.

 

**Death**

John comes back to his fairly crowded apartment in the early hours and starts making breakfast. Luckily no one’s sleeping in the kitchen. 

“Barsad says you saved me.”

John snorts, “Is that all he told you?”

She looks away, “…yes. He’s been strangely reticent about the whole situation. As far as I was aware, he’s never hidden anything from us before.”

“What, and now you think because he didn’t tell you about knowing me, he’s been lying about everything?” John shakes his head. “He’s been as truthful with you two as he’s been able. As truthful as would be believed. Hell, even _staying_ with you two for so long was incredibly out of character for him. He loves you. He loves Bane. He’s your brother as he always has been. He’s just a little more than you thought he was.”

“More. That’s the word he used too.” She looks at him again, like she’s trying to look into his soul. How ironic. “Maybe instead of asking about Barsad, I should be asking about you. How did you save us? I know I was halfway across the city from Bane when I crashed. How could you have helped both of us in time?”

John smirks. “I wasn’t anywhere near either of you. I was on the bridge trying to get the kids across when Barsad came to me.”

“Came to you? On the bridge? All the way from city hall?” Talia looks frustrated. John is amused to think that she’s probably never had to work this hard to understand anything in her life.

“What do you think happened, Talia? Did you think you crashed and just walked away from it with nothing but a broken neck? Do you think Bane, as bad off as he is, actually survived taking a canon to the chest? Do you think nothing happened to Barsad that chaos in front of city hall?”

“…What are you saying?” She asks warily. 

“Barsad _loves you_ ,” he says again. “You don’t know how unusual that is for us, but it is. It’s not just unusual, it’s unheard of. None of us have ever loved anyone before.” He can almost hear the questions that want to bubble out of her - _Us? Who’s us?_ \- but he wants to get this done so he presses on, “How could I refuse him when he asked me to save you? Even after all you’d done to those _I_ care about… I couldn’t say no. So I kept you, both of you, alive until we could help you.”

“Kept me… alive…” she repeats. “Kept me alive from across the city…” There’s something in her eyes. Some inkling of the way the world truly is. She’s become a logical person and her mind is rebelling against the thought of Them. Yet something in her, maybe the same part that believed she could find her father, believes.

“Yeah.”

“What are you?” she rasps.

John reaches out to grasp her hand and lets her _see_.

Many people imagine Death as a skeleton, or perhaps something rotten and foul. But this is not death, these are things that happen after death. Death is a moment. So she sees him as a person - any person, or maybe all people, at the moment of death. Itstouch is just a little cold and there is the shuddering, creeping feeling of _not-life_ , like the moment you know someone is gone completely, even if they look no different from one moment to the next.

Behind that face is a shifting, ghostly shadow, with simple, grey circlet on its head.

It knows Talia Al Ghul has seen many things, but she has not seen Death, not like this. Her mind shudders away from the sight, and she blinks. 

When she opens her eyes, his hand falls away, and he’s just John again.

Only he’ll never be _just John_ ever again.

 

**Pestilence**

He’s slated for execution the next day when he decides it’s time to stage a breakout. He also wants that idiotic Inspector to stop _ignoring him._

So naturally he stages his escape when the Inspector is coming around the cells. Crane doesn’t bother with subtly, just steps through the bars when the Inspector is about to turn the corner. 

He starts walking towards him, relatively innocuous since they don’t have the supplies for special prison uniforms. Or security cameras. Or much light, really. As he passes Gordon he nods and says, “Jimmy.” as he passes. Then he breaks out into a run cackling as he goes.

“CRANE!” He hears Gordon running behind him. But Gordon’s getting a bit old, and Crane’s body is just a vessel for him, so he pushes himself, racing down the corridors, and crashing through the front doors past the few officers stationed there. Then he turns down the side of the building and _jumps_ to Famine.

Famine’s pet human is with her, and she screams and drops her coffee mug, splattering instant coffee and ceramic shards all over the floor.

“Oh, come on!” Famine says, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Pestilence - Crane - grins, “Well I consider it all of your faults I’m like this, and your the one with the least company at the moment. So…”

“No.” Famine grits out.

“I guess this means we’re roommates!” He cackles. “I’ve never had a roommate before. Poor people living together is a great way to spread diseases though. I wonder what I could spread in this building”

Famine pinches her nose and helps the still-stunned Jen carefully step over the pieces of broken coffee mug.

“You can stay here, but _only if_ you do not make anyone in this building sick,” she says firmly. 

“Not even a little cold?” He pouts.

She glares at him, “If I hear so much as a sniffle anywhere around here I’m kicking you all the way back to your cell.”

Crane sighs, “Fine, fine. I suppose I’ll have to make my fun somewhere else…”

“You do that.”

 

**War**

Barsad wakes up to find breakfast made, and an unusually quiet and still Talia sitting in the kitchen. John appears to have passed out on the couch. 

“Are you alright?” he asks. 

“John… whatever he is… he…”

“Oh,” he says. He’s not sure what to say. 

“He said ‘us’ when he talked about you. Are you… like him?” She turns to look at him, a lost look in her eyes. Like she has seen a great many impossible things in her life, but nothing so impossible as this.

Barsad thinks about how to explain it. It’s clear John did more showing than telling, so he supposes he must try to find the words. “We are of the same kind, but not the same. He is Death, and I am War. We came from the same place, but we have difference… purposes. That’s why he could save you but I couldn’t.”

“War,” she whispers.

“Yes. I am wherever battles are being fought, whether physical, political, mental…”

“He… Death…” she stutters, unable to get past the name.

“I think he would prefer if you called him John.”

“John, then. He said you’d never stayed with anyone before this.”

Barsad laughs, “Well I wouldn’t say ‘never,’ but not for a long time. And never with someone who captivated me as much as you and Bane have.”

Talia sucks in a breath, “I find it hard to believe that _we_ captivated some… all-powerful immortal being.”

“Oh Talia,” Barsad says, reverently taking her hand in his, “When the part of me that exists everywhere walks unseen he now wears this face, because every part of me wants to belong to the two of you. If you send me away I will leave, but know that you’ve changed me forever.”

Talia looks down at their hands and swallows.

 

**Death**

John feels Bruce coming back, and knows he has to push Talia _now._

He wakes up and perches on the edge of the couch for a moment.

Now or never.

He joins Talia and Barsad in the kitchen and starts making himself a coffee.

“So,” he starts.

They don’t say anything. Talia’s… not exactly afraid, but not exactly _not_ afraid either. Barsad feels resigned. 

“I think you know what happened now, but what you might not know is what you’ve agreed to.”

“John…” Barsad starts, “Can’t this wait?”

“No.” John says, finally turning around. “She has to know now and give her answer now.”

“Know what?” Talia asks. She looks at Barsad, “Know what?”

“Barsad asked me to help you, and I did, but I didn’t do it for free. I asked him to make sure you wouldn’t try to destroy Gotham or kill Bruce Wayne again.” John takes a sip of his coffee. “So, are you going to give up this ridiculous crusade?”

Talia indignantly puffs up, “Ridiculous? How can you say my father’s life work is ridiculous? I must-“

“Oh stop,” John says, “You never really agreed with your father until he died. You never thought Gotham was the centre of corruption in the world at all. You did this for revenge and nothing more. And that’s fine. But I’m telling you to accept that you’ve had your revenge. Gotham will be feeling the effects of this for years, and even if Bruce Wayne comes back, I don’t think the Batman will.”

Barsad looks at Talia beseechingly, “Please, Talia. You’ve done enough here, there are other places that could use the judgement of the League of Shadows. Leave Gotham be.”

John adds, “And when you decide just know that you’d never manage to go through with anything anyway. I don’t want to hurt Barsad, but I will if you’re stubborn about this.”

She looks between them, at John’s hard gaze and Barsad’s pleading one, and sighs. “Fine. Gotham is safe from me, then.”

“Good.” John smiles, and sits down.

 

**Famine**

She barges into John’s apartment days later, dragging Pestilence - Crane - behind her. 

“Take this idiot away from me!” she yells. “He is driving absolutely me crazy!”

“Oh ho, crazy? From little old me? You flatterer,” Crane says.

“What’s he done now?” asks John.

“He’s stalking that Gordon guy all the time, so the police are crawling all over _my neighbourhood_ , so I can’t go _anywhere_ and he’s given all the officers colds so of course they are coughing _everywhere_ and _UGH!_ ” She throws her hands up in exasperation. “Just please. _Please._ Take him for a week or something.”

“I think I’m growing on Gordon. Yesterday he tried to shoot at me instead of just chasing me. I think he might have figured out I’m not human,” Crane reports gleefully. 

John laughs, “Well I don’t know if we can fit him in here, but why don’t we try to keep him occupied for a while anyway?”

She sighs. Despite her exasperation, there’s a warm feeling in her belly at the thought of the four of them sitting here together. 

It feels like family.

 

**Death**

That night, John walks up to the roof by himself. This is his city, and these are his people. Death may be everywhere, but John is here. He breaths in the slightly smoggy city air and really feels the motion of his lungs, the pump of his heart.

He feels Bruce return to Gotham. He grins a bit as he wonders if he'll get to keep any of the vast fortune Bruce left him if he's no longer dead. At the very least it should be extremely entertaining to see how people react. He wonders if this means he'll have to find another job.

Somehow, he thinks, everything will work out. Talia isn’t going to forgive Bruce tomorrow, or even next year or possibly the year after. Bruce isn’t going to forgive her or Bane anytime soon either. But maybe, one day, they can all sit down together. Maybe Gordon and Alfred will be there. Maybe Jen too. Maybe on that day, somewhere in the future, they can laugh together.

He feels Bane waking up below, and pokes War.

It feels like a new beginning.

 

**War**

He rushes to Bane’s side as soon as Death prods him awake. Bane’s eyes are fluttering, and he can’t help but clutch Bane’s hand and _hopehopehope_ that he’s going to understand all of this. 

Bane’s eyes open and stare blankly at the dirty white ceiling before sliding over to Barsad. 

“Bars…” he rasps.

“Bane,” he says. His throat feels tight and his eyes wet. He’s never cried before, is this what this feels like?

“A…live? Tal…”

“Talia’s fine. We’re all fine. We’re alive,” he assures Bane.

“We… fail?” 

Barsad laughs sharply through his tears. “Yes, we failed. But it’s fine. Talia will tell us what we’re doing next. Don’t worry about a thing, she’s not angry with you at all. Just rest and get well.”

“Glad… you’re alive…” Bane blinks slowly, fighting to stay awake.

“I’m glad you’re alive too, brother.”

Barsad kneels there for a long time with his face pressed against Bane’s hand, still clutched in his. Somehow, some way, by some miracle, he gets to keep this. Even if it’s only for the span of a mortal life, he gets to keep them. 


End file.
